Gamzee, the Faygo Boy
by AcneGoddess
Summary: Your name is Tessa Nitram, and you are mere seconds away from having a real, audible connection with that cute boy who works at Starbucks. Humanstuck AU, Gamzee/Fem!Tavros


GAMZEE, THE FAYGO BOY

Your name is Tessa Nitram, and you are mere seconds away from having a real, audible connection with that cute boy who works at Starbucks. For weeks, you have been coming into the little coffee shop in your wheelchair at the same exact time, ordering the same exact thing from the same exact boy. Stalker could be considered a strong word—when one is looking at you, they tend to forget your awkward disposition whilst becoming caught in your gigantic chocolate brown eyes—but there is really no other way to go about saying this, because the point of your daily coffee run has been all but forgotten, as all you do now is sit at the table closest to the counter and stare at him, your double latte all but forgotten.

This morning, however, you have decided to take the initiative and say more than just a stuttered "thank-you" to him. You are going to abandon all your inhibitions and emerge from your shell, and if you're brave enough, you may even receive his number or ChumHandle. Knowing you, though, getting either form of contact from him might take more than a single morning.

It is now 8:11, your usual time, and you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before you pull on the handle and step inside, towards what will hopefully be your future with that strange, yet somehow alluring, boy.

Just like every morning, he is hunched over the counter with that lazy, half-lidded smile with his clouded blue-eyes, and even if you _couldn't_ smell the pungent odor of pot smoke emitting from him, you could definitely see the fact that he's a complete stoner written all over his long face, which is always covered in some ridiculous face-paint that makes him look like a retired circus clown. You know for a fact that it is not a supported drink of Starbucks, but he always has a bottle or two of Faygo sitting right next to him. He offered one to you once, and told you of the "miracles" it held, but you politely declined as you tried not to empty your bladder with fright.

Upon hearing the door open, he snaps up out of that daze he's usually in, and when he recognizes you, his smile grows. "'Sup, sister?" His usual greeting, and even though he's slouching, you need to tilt your head up all the way in order to look his in the eye. It's a bit scary, how tall and gangly he is, but the way he greets you so warmly just makes your heart grow wings and fly like Pupa Pan. "How are you all up and doing this miraculous morning?"

"I'm, um, good… thanks," you reply tentatively, flashing a wavering smile. _Oh, for the love of God, Tessa, do _not_ mess this up. Your whole life could very well depend on this situation right here, right now. _"Um… can I have the u-usual, please?"

And just like every morning, like a well-programmed machine, his grin continues to grow to that of Cheshire-cat proportions, and he straightens up (now he's like a skyscraper over you) and goes over to the machine, placing a cup under the spout and flipping the lever so that the double latte may be produced. You nearly forget your set goal for the morning, and as the container is halfway full of the liquid you won't even drink, you realize that you're delaying from your duty, and you cannot have that happen.

"Tessa!" you blurt out after mentally pushing yourself over the edge, and you bite back a wince when he stops to look at you. Thankfully, he doesn't seem confused or angry, but he doesn't seem all-too thrilled, either. He's just got that same vacant, dreamy expression on his face.

"Is that what your name is?" he asks after a pause, his voice coming out languidly, and you swear that if you were to switch bodies, everything you could see through his eyes would be like a dream, or a very vivid acid trip, because there is no way a normal person could speak so lethargically. "Shit, I was up and beginning to think you didn't have one." There's another drawn-out silence, and it seems as if the words he just spoke were dawning on him like some incredible discovery, and you can pinpoint the exact moment his eyes go out of focus and oh _God_ he's beginning to daydream. "Can you imagine someone who didn't have a name? How many kinds of weird would that be? Would everyone just call you 'sis' or 'you'? I can't hardly even _begin_ to wonder how you would be able to know when someone needs to get your attention from far away…"

In the midst of his imagining, you see that your drink is beginning to spill over and you try to speak but it's almost like the words are stuck in your throat, and you hate yourself for being so shy and mousy, and just to prove your point, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a little squeak, but it seems to do the trick as he blinks back to reality and notices that he's made a mess of your useless double latte.

And what do you know, he's _laughing_! His gravely laugh is just _ringing_ through your ears and you think it's the most amazing laugh you've ever heard, and you find yourself breaking into a rare case of the giggles, as well, and he's not even _trying_ to clean up and the drink is just overflowing and pooling on the floor and the two of you are grinning and _laughing_ together without care and it's _amazing_ how intimate this feels.

He suddenly stops laughing, regarding you with earnest eyes, and you get the feeling that you've inadvertently done something horribly wrong by allowing yourself a few moments of joy, so you quickly shut up and look up at him like a deer in headlights.

As if there's nothing wrong with it, he finally turns the machine off and sticks a bright green straw in the cup, sliding it over to you with that dopey grin returning to his face. You go to reach into your bag to retrieve your wallet, but he seizes you before you can.

"This one's on the house," he says, and he places the cup in your lap and by this time you don't even care that it's dripping down and ruining your pants because you're astounded by the progress you have made, even if it has been unintentional, "'cause you've got the most adorablest motherfuckin' laugh I ever heard."

You can feel your face turn an ungodly shade of red, and another huge smile breaks out across your face, which makes him grin even harder and you bet that if that grin of his got any bigger it would begin to hurt (or was it hurting already?). "Th-thank you, uh…"

You trail off, and you realize that you don't even know _his_ name, because of all the times you've seen him (which is quite a lot of times), you have never once seen him wearing a nametag. You wonder if the manager is super lenient, or doesn't care at all about the state of his employee.

"Well, shit," he chuckles, and it's like he is also suddenly realizing the fact that his nametag is nonexistent, "I guess we were so caught up in getting our giggles on, that I totes forgot to up and introduce myself! I'm Gamzee." He grabs a Sharpie that's laying by his Faygo and then snatches your cup, scrawling something on it in chicken scratch handwriting, which is only fitting. He hands the cup back to you, and your heart swells with joy when you see seven digits going across it. "We should so hang out sometime, Tessa. That would be motherfuckin' bitchtits."

Before you even have a chance to reply, something outside the large windows distract him, and he's back into daydream mode. You don't care, though, because you've got what you came for and _more_, and as you wheel away, you pull out your mobile phone and program his number into it before the drink causes the writing to smudge even more than it already has.

Your name is Tessa Nitram, and today you have proven to yourself that love can be yours if you step up to the counter and order.


End file.
